


The Meeting

by Onomatopoetikon



Series: From Warriors to Wardens [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Book: Dragon Age - The Calling, Developing Relationship, M/M, Origin Story, Orlais (Dragon Age), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onomatopoetikon/pseuds/Onomatopoetikon
Summary: Based on the novel "Dragon Age: The Calling" by David Gaider, this story is the first part of a trilogy that focuses on the relationship between Nicolas and Julien, starting at the garrison of Fortalan.
Relationships: Julien/Nicolas (Dragon Age)
Series: From Warriors to Wardens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857682
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

The past two months had quite possibly been the dreariest ones in Nicolas' entire life. The garrison grounds were dry and dusty after almost no rain for many, many weeks and the heat, most summers humid but comfortable, was scorching and dry. The heatstroke had a calming effect on the local crime: people preferred to stay inside, or at least in the shade, rather than engaging in any physical activity. This, of course, was true for most of the soldiers in the garrison as well. Their exercise had been halved not once but twice and patrols were done more out of custom than actual need. Fortalan was not a large city and now it seemed even smaller as it lay in a summer slumber, its streets empty and quiet in the afternoon.

This, however, was likely to change very soon, Nicolas thought as he patrolled the town center. Water supplies were running low and people feared that their wells would dry up. The river which usually flowed majestically through the town on its way to the sea was well on its way to becoming no more than a timid creek. Without water the citizen would turn on the nobility and the chevaliers, and the garrisons would have to keep the citizens in check, with violence if necessary, because that was their job.

Nicolas did not look forward to it.

He had been with the garrison for some time now and had done well. There was hardly any room for promotion, especially not for a man like himself, almost less than a commoner, but swordsmanship came easy to him and he had made many friends among the other, older soldiers and so he had managed to make his way from almost errand boy at one of the perimeter patrol stations to city guard. All things considered, he had done well, and as he made his way back to the soldiers' quarters he felt content.

It was not until he was almost at the garrison gates that he noticed that something was amiss. Tension hung in the air, a silent but almost palpable sensation, and it was not until he entered the yard that he saw the reason why.

It seemed as if every soldier off duty had emerged from their shadowy realms, in spite of the scorching hot, sun-flooded yard. Sure, they stood back, talking to each other in low hushed whispers in the small shadows of the great walls that surrounded the garrison yard. Their voices blended together, sounding almost like the murmur of the faraway sea, and Nicolas could not help but imagine the hundred or so soldiers as so many gossiping fishwives, scrutinizing the stranger in their midst.

Because there was one.

At the center of attention stood a single man, his back straight and his attention fixed right ahead of him, his posture so much a warrior's that there could be no doubt about his profession. From where Nicolas were he could not see the man's face, but he noticed the small sack by the man's feet – presumably containing all of his earthly belongings – as well as the expensive-looking armor and the huge greatsword strapped to the man's back. Both the weapon and the armor shone in the sun and Nicolas thought it must be unbearably hot.

"What's going on?" he asked one of the men standing close by, his own whisper mingling with the others.

"I don't know" the man answered, not taking his eyes from the stranger. "He refuses to put his errand to anyone but the Captain."

"But the Captain won't be back until nightfall, if even then" Nicolas said, his eyes too now focused on the man in the fancy armor. The Captain of the guard was one of the few people allowed to speak to the nobility on the villagers' behalf – not entirely a privilege, Nicolas thought, judging by the long days spent and the few changes actually brought about – and with the water supply rapidly shrinking the meetings had increased in both number and duration. And it was still many hours until sundown.

"How long has he been standing there?" he asked.

"Since patrol started."

"But that's over two hours."

"I know. They say he hasn't had a drink or anything since then. There's a betting going on."

"So that's why everyone's hanging around like this."

"Yup. Only those on patrol who are missing, as far as I can tell."

Nicolas made a non-committal sound and left the man in order to circle the square and get a better view of the man in its middle. It was hard to get an idea of the man's build beneath the armor, but seeing as such a suit demanded great physique it was safe to assume that it was not a meek farm boy standing there. The hair was a dark brown color and the man sported a moustache, probably in order to seem older, because even though he looked pretty stern Nicolas thought the stranger close to himself in age. A man, certainly, but a young one all the same. No one the Captain would usually bother with, even when not engaged in political debate.

It was more an automatic movement than an actual decision when Nicolas made his way to one of the two spring fountains built into the stonewall surrounding the courtyard. The water skin he always carried with him, essential on days like this, was soon filled with cool water and with it he made his way out onto the yard.

He could feel the eyes of the other soldiers on him as he walked, heard them first grow silent and then whispering again with renewed energy. The stranger saw him as well, Nicolas walked almost straight up to him, but there was no discernible reaction – not until Nicolas stopped a few feet in front of him and spoke.

"Awfully hot day for wearing armor like that" Nicolas said and nodded, not caring to hide his impression in the casual remark.

"If you say so" the stranger replied, obviously not intending to carry on the conversation. Nicolas decided to ignore that and instead offered his water skin.

"Would you care for some water?"

The man looked at him curiously, as if trying to determine whether this was a jest or in earnest. While he did look a bit hot he did not seem awfully bothered by it. At last though he seemed to have reached a decision and accepted the water.

"Thank you" he said and put the skin to his lips. Nicolas watched as the water was gulped down in deep drafts, and took the water skin back when it was emptied. "It was refreshing."

"I only just arrived" Nicolas explained, even though the stranger had asked him anything. "The others said you hadn't had anything to drink since you got here."

"I was not offered anything" came the simple reply, and Nicolas was a little taken aback by it.

"I guess they're thinking that you're putting on some kind of show."

"I am here to see the Captain of this garrison." There was a certain edge to the man's voice, almost but not entirely hidden under his calm demeanor.

"He won't be back for many hours."

"So I am told."

"Many hours in scorching sun. In heavy armor" Nicolas pointed out.

"I will wait here until he returns."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly."

Nicolas knew a sharp edge when he felt it, and an iron will when he encountered it. So he smiled and let his shoulders relax.

"Okay. Well, I have to get back and be hassled by all those people whose bets I just ruined, but I'll come back later. You're going to need more than just a few mouthfuls of this if you're going to continue to make your stand." He paused only briefly, taking a half-step backwards. "So, um, I'll see you around."

There was no reply from the stranger, but when Nicolas had turned and walked a few paces toward the waiting crowd, he heard the other man's voice again. They were soft-spoken words, like an afterthought come out loud.

"Thank you."

As midday turned into afternoon and afternoon turned into early evening, Nicolas did not have many opportunities to go into the courtyard. Like his fellow soldiers he was soon engaged in the usual daily tasks to keep the garrison running. It was not an easy thing to keep a hundred and fifty men occupied with only patrols and exercise, so there was always large amounts of other work to be done, in order to keep the men from fraternizing too much with the village girls in the nearby tavern. Even so, Nicolas did get moments of free time and he used those to go out with some water, bread and fruit to the man still waiting. He tried asking a few casual questions but was stone-walled by polite, concise replies that gave no answers. What he did not do, however, was to question the man's reasons for stubbornly persisting to stand at attention, waiting for a man who was not there and would likely not pay any attention to him once he got there anyway. The stranger's reasons were his alone. At least for the time being.

When darkness fell Nicolas could not stop himself from venturing out into the yard again. He had heard the sound of hooves and knew that it must be the Captain returning to the garrison, and as he reached the courtyard it was already empty. There was a soft yellow light coming from the Captain's quarters and Nicolas decided to wait until the stranger came back out. He had, after all, finished all his duties and was not expected anywhere else – he could just as well loom around the courtyard as hang around somewhere else.

He waited for the better part of half an hour, mostly gazing up on the starry sky, listening to bits of conversation between patrolling men drifting through the night. More than an hour after sunset and it was still hot outside: the heat preserved in the stone and rocks of the buildings. Even so, it was a beautiful night. Nice and quiet.

A sudden flash of light spilled out onto the yard as the Captain's door was opened and the stranger stepped out. He closed the door carefully behind him, shouldered his sack and started walking. It was only a few steps before he stopped, having obviously noticed Nicolas who now went to him.

"So you're here to stay?"

"Yes."

"Great! Where'll you be lodging?"

It was not only a question of geography, it was also a way of finding out a bit more about the tight-lipped newcomer. Officers slept in private rooms close to the facilities of dining hall, library and baths, lowly soldiers such as Nicolas himself lived in the barracks furthest away from the gates and all the temptations beyond them. The Captain's quarters were located just off the main building, with an entrance to the study from the yard.

"Barrack nine."

A foot soldier then.

"Well, that's a surprise."

"How so?"

"Well, with that armor and that sword I would've thought you a senior officer, at least. This way – you want to drop off your things before supper, right?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'm Nicolas, by the way."

"Julien."

"That's a nice name. Not one you hear often in this place."

"Perhaps not." There was a tension in Julien's words. "Will you not ask my family name then?"

Nicolas glanced at the other man as they walked through the halls to the barracks.

"No? Should I? Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Then I won't" Nicolas said with a smile. "No one cares about family names here. Almost no one has one, to start with."

"Then how do you distinguish between them, if they share the same name?"

What strange kind of garrison had this man come from, really?"

"Nicknames. And it's hardly a problem, there aren't too many of us here."

"The Captain said almost two hundred men."

"An exaggeration if there ever was one. Including the servants, maybe. Well, here we are, barrack number nine."

The door was ajar but Nicolas made a casual knock at it before opening. Inside were two of the seven – well, eight, now – men lodged in the room.

"Merle, Austin, this here's Julien."

"Nice" one of the men, Merle, said while donning his leather boots. "Maybe Pyp'll finally stop spreading his things around like a wound-up cuckoo."

Nicolas looked at the bed pointed out by Austin. It was one of the lower bunks and completely covered in pieces of armor and dirty smallclothes.

"Filthy pig, that Pyp" Austin muttered and leaned off the wall. "So, Julien was it? Had supper yet?"

"No."

"We neither. How 'bout you, Nic?"

"Not yet. Thought I'd get it now, if there's any left."

"I certainly hope so" Merle said. "It's a bad thing, us on patrol always getting the scraps. Put down your things and let's get going, I'm starving. Pyp can clean up when he gets back."

Julien did as suggested and put his things down by the bed, then removed his heavy armor with practiced hands. Under it he wore simple leather trousers and a shirt made in a fabric Nicolas did not immediately recognize. It was not old and not torn, but it looked used and dust covered it. Even so, it looked peculiar in the tattered barrack.

Austin and Merle seemed less interested in the clothes: their attention was fixed on the armor.

"That's some fine equipment you've got there" Merle remarked as they moved down the corridors again, headed for the dining hall. "Must be hot in this kind of weather, though."

"I'm surprised you didn't keel over in that yard."

"Yes, what was that all about?"

As Julien provided short-sentenced replies, Nicolas found himself smiling. This was an unexpected turn of events and he looked forward to seeing them unfold.


	2. Chapter 2

As it were, many days passed and even turned into a few weeks without Nicolas seeing much of the new soldier at all. Newcomer or not, the days and nights at the garrison of Fortalan were filled with activity in spite of the heat. When the soldiers did not patrol the city or its surrounding villages they exercised their skills with sword and shield, engaged themselves in strategy and tactics or took care of their weapons, armor and other equipment. While Julien, due to his recent arrival, was probably held back at the garrison training grounds, Nicolas was often out on patrols – or, even worse, guarding wells.

That was the sad outcome of the Captain's tough bargaining and the rapidly shrinking water supply. It was necessary, Nicolas knew that, but he hated standing guard over water, inspecting how much water each and every villager took from their well or spring and urging them away once they had gotten their fill.

He was so sick and tired of the task that he welcomed a day of exercise in the courtyard, which doubled as training grounds. The sun still burned relentlessly from the clear blue sky – not a single cloud to be found in it – and Nicolas felt hot and sweaty before he had even stepped out on the gravel. He was dressed in simple clothing, just trousers and a shirt like most of the other soldiers, glad to be out of the armor. While a warm up seemed quite unnecessary he started out with one of the straw dolls. It could not strike back, of course, or even block the sword as it sliced through the air and the straw, but it was a good way to begin training. Nicolas paced and struck, circled and swept, cut and severed. For a long time all that existed was the weight of the sword in his hand, the gravel under his feet and the target.

When in time he lowered his sword and turned his back on the poor doll he could hear the quick footsteps of two boys running to it, no doubt to attend and mend its broken limbs and torso before the next soldier turned up.

"Ho there Nic!"

Nicolas dried the sweat from his brow and looked at the approaching soldier.

"Hey Alec, I didn't see you there."

"It's a damned day for exercising. With the weapons all shiny, we might just as well cover the walls with mirrors, the sun's bloody everywhere."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Alec shot him a glare but Nicolas only laughed. Though the other man tried to pretend otherwise, he was vain and took much pride in his looks. Not that he was beautiful or even very handsome, really, more the lean type. Someone likely to step up from behind in the darkness and silently cut your throat before melting into the shadows again.

"What do you say? Wanna have a go?"

"Sure."

While Alec could have made a formidable and infamous assassin of himself, he was as lethal as a viper in direct combat as well. His long knives with their thin blades were not to be underestimated as they cut effortlessly through air and flesh alike. Even if this was a simple exercise, the blades were just as sharp as in a real fight, and without a shield, Nicolas had no means of protection against the twin blades. The smallest mistake would almost certainly result in an injury - but that would only motivate him to do his best, would it not?

More than once, Nicolas had to change a cut or a strike in order to parry the other man's knives, but he knew that Alex suffered the same problem. They were very evenly matched. After some time though, he gained an advantage. Alec had miscalculated, taken a step a bit too far back, and it had set him off balance. A single strike would effectively relieve him of his main hand dagger and then –

The sun reflected off of a greatsword in the corner of his eyes. Half a moment later he felt his own sword knocked out of his grasp and a dagger pointed at his heart, the other at his throat.

"You die" Alec stated, not without a certain note of pride. "You lost your concentration."

"Guilty as charged. But that over there" Nicolas pointed to another duel behind Alec's shoulder, "is quite a show."

It was.

Wielding his large greatsword like it was nothing but a stick, Julien took on the other soldiers around him as they approached him one by one. A few steps, a few strikes, then the attacker's weapon fell to the ground or the man lost his footing, stumbling over his own feet trying to regain his balance. The next man in line stepped forward, and the same thing happened again. As if that was not impressive enough on its own, Julien wore his armor.

This should have been to the other soldiers' advantage. A bulky, heavy armor reduced the warrior's mobility and was tiring, not to say exhausting. The others, clad in garments similar to Nicolas' clothes, should be more agile and could also wield their weapons without fear of wounding their opponent. Yet they stood no chance.

"You're toying with them" Nicolas said loudly as he and Alec joined the spectacle. It halted.

"What?" one of the younger soldiers demanded.

"I said, he's toying with you. He's holding back." Nicolas words caused mumbling among the men, yet he continued. "Isn't that right, Julien?"

The man did not reply. Still, he had looked so casual about his movements, so matter-of-factly, that Nicolas was sure he was right.

"And you'd give him a fair fight?" Alec scoffed. "I could've pierced your heart less than a minute ago."

Nicolas could have sworn he saw a spark of interest in Julien's eyes. Or curiosity. They were an impossible blue, like the sky.

"Not with this, no." He gestured with his sword. "He'd hack me to pieces."

Definitely curiosity. But Alec grabbed his shoulder, demanding attention.

"Nicolas, you shouldn't."

"I know, but what harm could it do? Really?"

"Well, for one, the Captain has forbidden you from using it."

"Using what?" Julien's voice, though low, made everyone else quiet. Nicolas smiled.

"My weapon of choice. Hey, Michel!" The servant boy who had been standing by the wall came to them. "Go to barrack twelve and bring back the weapon and the shield under the bed, furthest back in the room on the right side."

"Yes, sir!"

The boy ran off. Nicolas looked after him, at least until he heard Alec mumble under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said you'll get in trouble. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I do." Nicolas could feel his jaw tighten and forced himself to relax. What had happened, had happened. It was the past and beyond his powers to alter.

"What is this weapon?" Julien asked.

"Oh, just a silly old-"

"There's nothing silly about it" Alec interrupted, "and there is a perfectly good reason why Nic should stick with his sword.

"And that is?" Julien's gaze wandered between them as if unsure where he should seek his answer and where he was most likely to get it. Nicolas yielded.

"The reason why I'm not allowed to patrol with it is because it's not elegant enough. _That_ is silly." He glared at Alec, who did not look away. "The reason why I'm not allowed to practice with it was, at first, to teach me swordsmanship. That changed when I wounded another soldier."

"Wounded? You almost killed him!"

"I _wounded_ him, Alec. Severely, yes." He turned his gaze to Julien again. "I crushed his knee and one of his hands. Unintentionally. His armor was in a bad shape and it was an accident."

For a few moments, everything was perfectly silent. Nicolas realized that this was probably unknown not only to Julien but also to several, if not all the young soldiers present. Julien, however, was the only one who did not look the slightest alarmed by the prospect of fighting him.

"The weapon?" he enquired, just as the boy came running back zig-zaging across the training grounds. He was out of breath but smiled broadly as he handed the big shield and the wrapped weapon to Nicolas, and Nicolas felt a similar excitement as he held the familiar handle and removed the cloth.

"A mace?" Julien sounded disbelieving.

" _My_ mace" Nicolas corrected him.

It was not a very beautiful weapon, there was no artistry to it. It was made for destruction: to crush bones and muscles, to dent armor and mash helmets. For all its simplicity, it was a deadly weapon – and a perfect match against heavy armor.

"So, are you up for it?" Nicolas asked as he handed the cloth to Michel who had already taken care of the sword.

"No armor?" Julien asked in reply.

"Only the shield. I'll try not to dent your armor too much, if you'll please try not to run me through at first strike."

"Nicolas, really, cut it out, you shouldn't do this-"

"I am ready" Julien said, effectively cutting off Alec's objections. Nicolas laughed.

"It's on."

Immediately the crowd took two steps back, allowing them more space, and Nicolas could feel his body tense as he crouched into the appropriate pose. It had been some time since he had last used the mace at anything other than a straw doll, but the weight and balance were still as familiar to him as any part of his body.

Julien made the first move, a sweep which Nicolas barely sidestepped before raising his shield to block the oncoming blow while he re-thought his strategy. It had surprised him, he had thought Julien more the anticipating and patient kind of warrior, rather than impulsive.

Interesting.

They re-arranged themselves and Nicolas swung his mace, felt it soar through the air before it was knocked aside by the flat side of Julien's broad blade. Then the blade struck and Nicolas blocked again, stepping into a new attack which was blocked in turn. They circled each other, gazes interlocked as they measured the other's movements, tried to anticipate what the next move would be and how to land a blow of their own. They fell into a rhythm, Nicolas noticed, a rhythm of steps, of steel clanking against steel, of breaths, of Nicolas' own heartbeats and the sound of blood thrumming in his veins. The pace quickened as they gathered more and more understanding of each other's style and balance. No longer testing each other out, their movement became a steady beat where one blow, one step, immediately melted into the next. Strike, cut, parry, sweep, block, slice, stave off, knock, hurl, hold, step aside, swing, circle, charge, block again, reproach – it went on seemingly forever.

Until he heard his name.

"Nicolas! Put that mace down!"

There was no mistaking it. Nicolas knew lieutenant Fergus' voice the instant he heard it. Thankfully, Julien noticed it as well and they both lowered their weapons – Nicolas very reluctantly so.

"I said, put your weapon down!"

Lieutenant Fergus was right behind him now, Nicolas knew it from hearing the man's voice and where the footsteps had stopped. There was also the heavy breathing and the untouchable but unmistakable aura of triumph emanating from him.

"Nic!" It was Alec now. "Do as he says."

Nicolas shot Julien an apologetic glance and then, with a sigh, turned around to face the lieutenant. For a brief moment he enjoyed the look of horror on the man's face – then he dropped the mace to the ground where it landed with a soft thump on the gravel.

"I'm sorry, sir" he said.

Fergus glared up at him from his eight inches lower vantage point.

"To the Captain" he said.

"This is most unfortunate, Nicolas."

The Captain turned his back on the window he had been looking out through and directed his gaze at Nicolas instead. The man looked troubled, and the lines in his face seemed to have deepened since summer and the heat began.

"I'm sorry, sir" Nicolas said, but was stopped by the Captain's raised hands.

"Spare me your excuses. I understand that any man revels in showing off his skills, and you _are_ skilled with that mace Nicolas."

"Thank you, sir."

"But that lieutenant Fergus should catch you practicing with that weapon is unfortunate indeed. You do realize that any other of your superior officers would perhaps never have brought the incident to my attention?"

"I do, sir."

"And do you also realize that I must make an example out of your disobedience?"

"Yes, sir."

Those two tiny words were like weights of led, pressing down not only his back but his mind as well.

"Very well, then. I shall think of something suitable and you will be notified in the morning. You may return to your comrades."

"Thank you, sir."

Nicolas crossed his arms in front of his chest, bowed slightly and left the office, only to be met outside by Fergus. The man said nothing and did not move, but the malicious smile all over his face made Nicolas skin itch.

When he reached the training grounds he saw Alec and Julien standing by one of the water fountains. As he came closer, they both shot him questioning looks.

"The Captain was not pleased" Nicolas provided. "He's yet to think of a proper punishment, though."

"I told you it was a bad idea Nic" said Alec, shaking his head slightly.

"That you did."

Alec said nothing more. He merely turned and walked away, presumably headed to the dining hall or somewhere shady. Silence fell between the two remaining soldiers.

"So…" Nicolas started after a few awkward seconds of silence, "is there a reason why you're always wearing full armor or do you just like it?"

Julien seemed a bit taken aback by this.

"Should I not?"

"Well, isn't it tiring? Hot? Uncomfortable?"

"Of course it is" Julien acknowledged. "But how else could one grow accustomed to his armor, and perform in it to the best of his abilities?"

"I suppose… But there's really no need for armor here – any at all is still more than the citizens and farmers around here will ever have."

Silence again, but not for many moments.

"Why is the Captain so hard on you?" Julien asked. "It seems an odd thing, to punish a soldier for practicing with his weapon."

"He isn't" Nicolas replied, shaking his head. "Not really."

"What then?"

"I'm not being punished for using it, he's punishing me for being found out. Or rather, found out by Fergus."

"That was the lieutenant?"

"Yes."

"Why him?"

Nicolas gave him a wry smile. So he had not noticed?

"Lieutenant Fergus was the soldier I injured. He hates me for it."

"But you crushed his knee?"

Nicolas nodded and lowered his face to the fountain, where he cupped his hand and drank several deep gulps. Fresh, cool water. For how much longer?

"I did" he said as he straightened up again. "They had to cut the leg off. It's solid wood all the way down."

"And the hand?"

"He can't use it, keeps it hidden most of the time."

"Strange" Julien said, looking across the now almost empty yard.

"What about it?"

"Why they did not let him go."

Nicolas shrugged and leaned back against one of the stone pillars.

"Well, he wasn't a very good soldier to start with, but he's a great strategist. And I don't think he had any particular place to go, either." Nicolas kicked absent-mindedly at the sand. Perhaps it was sad, imagining the loneliness of such an unpleasant and ill-favored man – features which had not improved since the injury – but Nicolas had decided not to dwell on it. It had been an accident, nothing else. "Anyway, because of the severity of the injuries and because his rank was higher than mine, they had to do something in order to please him and not make a formal charge. So they took the mace."

With that concluding piece of fact out of the way, Nicolas felt it was high time to change the subject.

"Are you on patrol tonight? Or do you have any other duties?"

"No. Why?"

"There was some talk earlier about a few of us going to the Stump. Care to join us?"

"Do you think you are still entitled leave for such frivolities?"

"The Captain said nothing about withdrawing my leave. I'm quite sure he would have told me directly if he intended to."

"Probably."

"So, are you up for it?"

Julien looked at him with an unintelligible gaze and then gave a half smile.

"Yes."

"Great! We'll meet up at the gates at patrol shift."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: mentions of sexual assault and murder

The Gnarled Stump was, as suggested by its name, not the fanciest tavern in Fortalan. In fact, it could be disputed if it could even be called a tavern and not simply a hole in a building half fallen apart, reeking of beer and ale and piss and sweat. Even so, it was always cramped with people. With its ladies willing to cater to the more carnal needs of the soldiers, its low prices and its proximity to the garrison, the affectionately nicknamed Stump was a favorite hideout for soldiers on a few hours of leave. There they drank cheap beer, listened to troubadours, played cards – or paid a few silvers to roll in the hay for a while.

As usual, business this evening was booming. Never a quiet night at the Stump. Some farmers played dice in a corner and a traveling merchant displayed his goods in another, but what really mattered was the Initiation.

It was nothing serious, and that was the beauty of it. To welcome a new soldier, the senior soldiers would put their meager means together to keep the beer flowing until time came for them to go back to their barracks. Usually, many recruits arrived at the same time, but with Julien's strange arrival and all, he was the only new face and thus the center of everyone's attention. Even so, they had a hard time prying even the smallest bits of information out of him. Not that it took long until most of the soldiers were too drunk to notice, or even try further.

What they did learn was that Julien had come from the north, that he had been using two-handed swords since age seven and that yes, he had indeed been very hot standing in that armor in the courtyard that first day. Summarily, not much they did not already know. Nicolas was, truth to be told, a little frustrated by this. He had hoped to glean some new pieces of intelligence on this strange man.

Just like the beer and the ale, conversation flowed steady between the soldiers and one discussion in particular caught Nicolas' interest.

"No way they did."

"Yes, I said so, didn't I?"

"Well then you're lying!"

"Am not! Those chevaliers were no more than thirty feet in front of me. I saw them, just like I see Chantelle over there!"

At once, casual glances searched and found the flaxen-haired woman currently busying herself in the knee of one of the dice-players. Then they just as quickly returned their attention to the matter at hand.

"But they have no right to do that" the other man argued. "Surely even the-"

"Even the chevaliers?" the man defending his story echoed. "Even the chevaliers?"

"Sssshhh! Keep your voice down Aldric, or you'll meet them again tonight for sure." It was Alec who cautioned, and he handed Aldric another beer. The man grumbled, took a few slugs and then continued, in a lower voice.

"They raped those children" he said. "They hadn't done nothing wrong, just walking there on the road, that's all. And those filthy damn bastards just… defiled them. Laughed and cheered each other on and on, like it was some sodding competition."

Aldric spat vehemently on the floor, as if his spit was poison and the floor the men he was talking about.

"I daredn't go there or even make a sound. I was all alone and my patrol were ways away. When they left, I walked up to the children... Wanted to see if… if there's anything I could do but… they didn't live no more. Bled out."

The man was silent for a few moments, staring past his listeners and off into the distance. Then he raised the mug to his mouth and emptied it.

"Those bastards" one of the other soldiers said, the one who had argued earlier.

"Bastard swine" another one agreed.

"Isn't it enough that they take our women on the wedding night? D'they have to rape and kill the children as well?"

"Wonder how they'd like it…"

"They ought to be killed themselves."

"I bet you we're a fair deal better than those noble, soft pricks!

The laughter and words of agreement died out. Julien had risen from his seat and his eyes were dark, his face as void of emotion as if it had been cut from stone.

"Not all the chevaliers are rapists and murderers" he said, his voice unusually loud, perfectly audible even with the noisy background. "And if you wish to do justice by repeating the wrongs of some, then you are no better than them."

Silver coins landed upon the table and Julien left. For a moment, Nicolas and the other soldiers looked after him, but he did not come back.

"What's his sodding problem?" Alec said and conversation started again as if it had never broken off. Nicolas, however, put his own due on the table, took his cloak and left the tavern with only a few nods to his friends. He had only passed a few buildings when he heard the unmistakable sound of a man throwing up.

In between two houses was Julien, leaning with one hand against one of the buildings, with the other wiping at his face.

"What was that all about?" Nicolas asked.

Julien spat on the ground.

"Probably the worst ale I have ever had."

"Probably. I meant your little speech."

"I figured." Julien straightened up and came back out onto the street, his gaze running up and down it. "Where is the closest water fountain?"

"A few blocks in that direction, but it's almost dry. You'd better wait until you get to the garrison."

The other man spat again, then began to walk. Nicolas followed, slightly amused that there had been no question as to his following in the first place. Not as if it was expected, but it was accepted.

"You're a chevalier, aren't you?" he asked when they had walked past a few houses in silence.

"No."

"Were you raped?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

Julien stopped in his steps and Nicolas did the same.

"Were there any other points in Aldric's story to become so upset about?"

"Is it wrong to be so?"

"No, not at all. I mean, I agree with you, I just hadn't expected such an outburst. So why were you upset? There must be a reason."

Julien started walking again, still in the direction of the garrison. It was a few steps before he said anything.

"I was training to become a chevalier" he said. "I was almost ready to swear the oath."

"When?"

"Before I came here."

"What happened?"

"A man died."

"By accident?"

"By my hand."

They were almost at the garrison gates no, but even though Julien spoke quietly the night was too silent to keep any conversation entirely private. As this did not seem like something Julien was too keen on talking about at all, Nicolas made him stop some distance away from the gate-keepers.

"You're a noble." It was not really a question. "A chevalier in training, your armor, your sword… That's why you were surprised I didn't ask for your family name that first day. That's why you didn't want to say it."

"I am not noble" Julien said, his tone even more serious now. "I had to leave my family and my name behind. I do not belong with them anymore."

"But you can't just quit being nobility. It's in your blood."

"You are a soldier, Nicolas. You of all men should know that on the battlefield you cannot separate one man's blood from another's. What defines a man are the choices he makes. I have made mine, and I will bear the consequences forever."

Julien turned and walked away, and this time, Nicolas did not follow.

Nicolas' punishment for using his mace was to assist the cook. Since he was hardly of any use in the kitchen, he was set to more manual tasks. Therefore he spent many hours peeling potatoes, carrying buckets of water and chopping wood for the great, ever hungry stoves. The latter was especially hard work since it was to be done outdoors – unprotected from the hot sun – but Nicolas did not really mind. It was familiar work for him, and even, in a way, relaxing.

"That seems far too enjoyable to be a proper punishment."

It was Julien. Not in his heavy armor, just regular clothes, and he looked almost at ease. Very, unusually, happy.

"It wasn't really supposed to be a punishment, remember?" Nicolas said and placed another piece of wood on the stump. He stepped back, lifted the axe and let it down heavily on the dry wood, at which it split with a crackling sound. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on regular patrol duty by now."

"I am" Julien replied, "but not until tonight. Your friend, Alec, asked for us to shift patrols. I said yes."

"Oh. What was your patrol?"

"The forest south. But that is where you were supposed to patrol tonight as well. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a thought."

"I see."

Nicolas took another billet from the pile, put in on the stump and split it. Julien remained where he was, standing by one of the neatly stacked piles of chopped wood. He was almost out of sight, in the perimeter of Nicolas' field of vision, yet Nicolas was acutely aware of his presence and his gaze. After a few more logs without another word said between them, Nicolas lodged the axe in the stump.

"Was there something else?" he asked. "Or are you here simply because you enjoy watching a man at work?"

It was as if a thunderstorm had come forth. Instantly the good mood was gone from Julien's eyes and face and he stiffened, as if making ready to leave.

"I'm sorry" he said, reservedly.

"No, wait. Julien…" he took a few steps toward the other man. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have been so pushy. Whoever you were before, it doesn't matter."

"I does matter. Who I was is a part of who I am, even if it means who I am not."

"Enough with the philosophy. I'm just saying that I hope we can be friends."

At this, Julien actually smiled. Not an entirely happy smile, but still.

"I already consider you my friend, Nicolas."

"Oh. Well, eh, that's good. So you're not pissed at me about the other night then?"

"No."

"Oh, good. Well, I'd better get chopping, but I'll… see you tonight, I guess."

"Yes. 'til then."

As the day turned into afternoon, the weather changed. It was still just as hot and dry, but clouds were visible in the far horizon. When afternoon slowly turned into evening, those clouds had come closer and also grown dark, looming ominously overhead.

Nicolas met Alec outside the barracks. The man looked awfully pleased.

"I heard you traded our patrol tonight for a turn in the woods this afternoon" Nicolas remarked. "Judging by your look I'd say it was well worth it."

"And I'd say it was indeed, especially since I didn't have to trade anything for it." When Nicolas failed to comprehend, Alec supplied: "Your friend turned down my offer. Twice."

"Really?" Nicolas said. "Well, then you got yourself a freebie, but I wouldn't count on it happening again."

"No, probably not." Alec mock-sighed. "But it seems you're going to have a turn yourself."

"What?"

"In the forest. Julien asked Alvin and Marc to switch. I gather they were happy to be rid of the forest with the weather coming in. A thunderstorm would be bad, lightning and all… What?"

"Julien _asked_ for the forest?"

"Yeah."

"But he didn't charge you for switching with him?"

"Not a single drink, not even a coin" Alec said with a shrug.

"So either he doesn't know… or he does."

"Well yes, it's probably one of the two."

"Oh Maker…" Nicolas said. "One of us is surely in for a surprise then…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever suspect or fear that someone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, please be more considerate about asking (if you should have a reason to ask) than Nic is.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had not yet set beyond the horizon when the bell struck the time for patrols to start. Julien was in full armor and seemed eager to leave, something which Alvin and Marc took notice of. They grinned knowingly at Nicolas who tried to discreetly shake his head at them as they walked the first street together. Whether they did not notice, or did not want to understand his mimed _he doesn't know_ , was unclear, but as the two patrols parted ways the other two men giggled in a very un-soldierly manner. Nicolas was not quite as amused, but relieved to no longer be sharing the road with them.

The forest which their patrol route consisted of was a perfect forest, by Orlesian standards. Green and lush with white-stemmed trees and chirping birds, small streams running in crooks and a soft, green forest floor. Of course now, with the drought, it was a lot… dustier in all its green than Nicolas knew to be normal, but it was still beautiful, and peaceful. Hardly a place where one would expect to find robbers or slavers, but they existed and therefore the forest must be patrolled.

"Is something the matter?" Julien asked as they were almost at the forest entrance.

"No. Why?"

"You are being unusually quiet."

Nicolas laughed.

"I guess I am. It's just that it's been a while since I was on forest patrol. I've kind of forgotten what a nice place it is, even at night."

"I thought the patrols were rotated?"

"Oh they are, but many soldiers trade to get patrol here, like Alec did with you today. Or tried to do."

"How come?"

He really did not know? He had been at the garrison for almost a month now and he did not know? How was that even possible?

"Why did you ask Alvin and Marc to switch patrol with us?" Nicolas countered.

"I have never been here before, and I thought it would be a nice change to the city" Julien replied simply. "But you did not answer my question."

"Well…" Nicolas began, realizing that he felt almost embarrassed explaining this part of the life at the garrison. "Well, the reason why many soldiers trade for this patrol – and I mean trade in the real sense, they bargain for it – is because it's far away from others. Especially far away from the lieutenants."

"What you are saying is…" Julien did not seem to find the words.

"They come for privacy. Often with local girls, there are a lot of farms nearby and a lot of women. Usually, one man takes care of the patrol while the other… tends to his other business. And then they rendezvous again and return to the garrison."

He could feel his cheeks reddening. It was nothing to be embarrassed about, really, but it was nothing that was ever really spoken of.

"How can the senior officers not know?"

"Oh, they know all right. I think they turn a blind eye as long as it's done with discretion. I mean, they've done it as well, how could they forget it just because of a new rank?"

They walked on for a while in silence. The forest around them was filled with summer night sounds, an owl hooted somewhere among the trees and insects played songs in the shrubbery. Darkness was settling faster than usual, Nicolas thought, probably because of the storm clouds gathering. They would have to light their torches soon.

Suddenly Julien spoke.

"When Alec asked to change patrols with me today, he did it to meet with a girl?"

"Yes." Nicolas nodded in the half darkness. "There's this farm girl, Joanne. He really likes her but he's too much of a coward to actually tell her. She only agrees to meet him about once a month or so."

"Oh."

A few more minutes passed by. Nicolas did not really mind the silence, because just like Julien had said, the forest was a nice change to the bustling, dry, hot city. The air felt fresher here and it was nice to feel moist earth under the boots instead of caked dirt and gravel. And if Julien needed some time to think on this particular piece of information about the soldiers' habits, then they had plenty of time here. Not a single robber or slaver to be seen or heard.

"When you learned that I had asked for this patrol – what did you think?"

"I was curious. It seemed unlikely that you should have already found some girl who would come into the forest with you – at night, no less."

Julien made a sound curiously like a snort.

"Unlikely?"

"Well, I haven't seen you womanizing very much and you haven't really been here for very long either. So I thought maybe…" his voice trailed off.

"You thought..?"

"Never mind. Here, let's go this way. If this is your first time here, you really shouldn't miss it. Let's light the torches first, though."

They did, and then Nicolas led the way on a narrow footpath that would its way into the very depths of the forest. It was a walk of perhaps ten minutes, but Julien did not question or complain and soon enough they reached the place Nicolas had had in mind.

"Is this… a lake?" Julien lifted his torch a bit higher.

"Yeah. Or more like a pond, I think you could walk around it in less than an hour. It's hard to see now, but it's a beautiful place."

"It is beautiful now as well."

"I'm glad you like it." Nicolas smiled, feeling a sort of silly happiness at Julien's approval of the place.

"Thank you for taking me here."

The happiness changed and again, Nicolas' cheeks flushed. Thank the Maker for the darkness.

"Well, er…" Nicolas cleared his throat. "It's not like it's a secret place or anything. All the soldiers know about it. This is where they come."

In a double sense of the word.

"I see." Was that embarrassment in Julien's voice as well? It was impossible to tell, especially with his face turned away from the golden light of Nicolas' torch. But when Julien continued, it was certainly not embarrassment in his voice: "Have you come here often?"

"A few times" Nicolas admitted.

"With company?"

"Yes."

"The same girl?"

"Never a girl."

The silence between them was immediate, heavy and tentative, as if they were standing of a thin sheet of crisp ice that would break with even the smallest of missteppings. Julien did not speak.

"Are you disgusted by me now?" Nicolas asked after a few, long moments.

"No."

"That's a relief."

"What was it you thought?"

"What?"

"Earlier, I asked you what you thought about my asking for this patrol. You did not answer."

It was like a dance, this conversation, every word a carefully balanced step.

"I told you I was curious."

"And that I was unlikely to have found a girl who would want to join me here, yes, but after that? What did you think?"

Nicolas gave in.

"I thought it would be nice to be here with you. Are you disgusted now?"

"No." There seemed to be almost a smile in Julien's voice, but he was still turned away from Nicolas, looking across the dark water. He could probably not see further than his own hand, but perhaps he was looking at something not really there, another place, another time. "Would you not get in trouble? With the lieutenants?"

"Only if there's a band of robbers slipping by us unnoticed and the city is burning as we walk back. I told you, they know about it. Everyone does, and everyone does it. Well, mostly with women."

A moment of silence.

"Do you still think so?"

"Yes."

Finally, Julien turned back into the glowing light of the torch, one eyebrow cocked, but then he smiled and shook his head ever so slightly. Considering this non-answer a positive response, Nicolas closed the distance between, stopping only a few feet away. The fire from the burning torch warmed his face and was like golden red shadows on Julien's features. They reflected in his eyes.

"Come" Nicolas said, "there's a nice patch of grass over there."

He made to go but had scarce taken a single step when he felt Julien's hand gripping his arm, turning him back again.

The kiss was not as forceful as Nicolas had thought it would be. It was tender, almost. Not a gift, not a question: more like an offer, tasting like spices, mead and strength, and Nicolas gladly took up on it. As they had sealed their agreement, Nicolas took the torches and put them firmly into the ground, not wanting them to fall down and go out. Meanwhile, he could hear the sound of Julien removing his armor. After what felt like forever the torches stood securely and Nicolas rose, beginning at last to remove his own guard's armor. He barely even got to the first strap.

"Whoa, you really are a big guy, aren't you?" he said with a smile – and laughed as he saw Julien's embarrassment spread on his cheeks. "I suppose it would be hurtful to your manhood if I said that I was really referring to your entire body package, not just... the package?"

"You did anyway" Julien softly remarked. "Twice."

"I did. Sorry." He removed his armor, putting it on the ground as he stepped out of it, finally removing the boots. "But really. Any man can look big and tough in heavy armor, but you don't need the armor to make that impression."

"You are not a frail bird yourself" Julien pointed out, seeming to have regained some of his composure.

"I guess not. I try not to be." His undershirt and trousers joined the pieces of armor on the ground. "But I might sing for you all the same."

Julien snickered and Nicolas simply smiled.

Some while later they lay next to each other in the dry grass, both still naked and both temporarily at a loss for words – Nicolas especially so. He was also, for the first time in weeks, pleased by the heat, because it allowed him to study Julien's body in the flickering light of the torches for far longer time than he would have been able to any other, more ordinarily tempered night. Even though they were now separated again, Nicolas remembered the moments of unity with both body and mind, and he was curious about the body with which he had experienced it.

They idled, he knew that, far beyond the extents of a purely carnal encounter. Much in the same manner, Nicolas' fingers lingered still on Julien's skin, tracing the muscles and limbs in a way he had had neither the time nor the peace of mind to do earlier.

"What do you see?" Julien's voice was as soft as velvet, drowsy, but also with a hint of amusement. "What are you looking for?"

"I see a body ready for fights, for battle, but it's not really a warrior's body. Not yet."

"No?"

"No. I'm looking for scars. Memories."

"I am marked."

"Only a few scars. Minor cuts and scrapes, easily mended. No jagged blade or rusted axe on this skin."

"Not jagged, perhaps" Julien said, "but there was a poisoned blade once."

He must have known that this would spark Nicolas' interest, because he gave one of his rare half smiles when Nicolas asked him why. Then he shook his head, slowly and deliberately.

"Another time, Nicolas."

"You shouldn't tease me like that" Nicolas complained. Then he felt something soft and wet on his skin. One, two, ten water drops. He looked skywards and saw Julien do the same. It was dark, impossible to discern clouds, but they were there – the lack of stars proved as much. And the rain that started falling, softly at first, was accompanied by a loud rumble.

"Thunder" Nicolas said redundantly as he felt the charge in the air, the anticipation of lightning and havoc.

"Pray that the Maker lets the rain fall first, or we will risk getting trapped in a forest fire" Julien said much more soberly.

Nicolas felt his throat tighten at the mention. The forest was dry, full of cracking wood, crisp grass and leaves. Without water in the greenery, and without a heavy rainfall, a single strike of lightning could cause disaster.

"Let's get out of here."

"Agreed."

They got up and got into their clothes and armor, grabbed their still burning torches and started back the way they had come, Nicolas leading the way. As they walked through the shrubbery the thunder came closer and the rain fell steadily heavier on their heads and shoulders, even though they walked mostly beneath the thick tree canopies. They moved in silence, and fast, not slowing down until they reached the edge of the forest from where one could make out the town and its walls. There, Nicolas made a halt.

At this point he was wet both outside his armor, not yet soaked but well on his way to being so. They had a few more minutes before they were supposed to be coming back, and even with the rain coming down on them, there were some things that needed to be said first.

"Do you want me to keep quiet about this?" he asked.

Julien looked surprised at first but regained control over his emotions in a heartbeat. Surprise changed into something like gratefulness.

"Yes, please."

"Is it because of the stories?"

Some years back, the Emperor had sent away his cousin to rule the occupied neighboring country – not as a boon, as one might think, but rather a punishment. It was rumored that the offense was a carnal relationship between the two royal men, unwanted, it appeared, and the almost-exile of the lesser man had caused same-sex relationships to be, if not outright forbidden then at the very least out of fashion. And Orlais, even in their garrisons, was all about fashion.

But Julien shook his head.

"No. It is because of _my_ story."

"Oh. One more question then. Is this one time only?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Nicolas smiled, lowered his gaze for a fleeting instant.

"No."

"Neither do I."

"So we're okay then?"

"We are."

Julien had moved closer to Nicolas as they spoke and now they both stood under the great canopy of an oak tree, shielded momentarily from the rain. Julien took Nicolas' hand in his.

"Do I have your silence?" he asked quietly, barely audible over the raindrops thundering down around them.

"My lips are sealed."

The words had all but left his lips when Julien leaned in and kissed him. A probing, curious, deep, sweet kiss it was and it made Nicolas wish to be back by the lake. Here they were too close to the town, the people, the rules and morals created by others. Unwillingly did he let Julien go, longing for him the instant their lips no longer touched.

"They are now" Julien said, a warmth in his eyes. "Let us go back."

So they did, but they had not yet reached the wall when a figure appeared at the gate, running towards them.

"To the garrison!" the man shouted. "You must go to the garrison at once, by order of the Captain!"

"Why? What's happened?" Nicolas demanded.

"Invasion! At Val Mort! Darkspawn!"


End file.
